beelzebul
lord of the flies
I wonder if
that
extends to bees
insects
in general
and
we don’t do well with these
their foreignness
I guess
arthropodic armor
buzzing when
it’s not easy in the garden
and
then they bite and
they sting
and
when masses of these assemble
there is trouble
on soft flesh
and I wonder we don’t think
they’re always
angry
I’m drafting while debating
hoping for the bite
to go
away
sad shared surprise we both got up to
early in the morning
and by the way
to me and
you
we need these or we die
c l couch
photo by Ankith Choudhary on Unsplash
"Collecting Honey"
common book of prayer
God
forgive me
and help me
and is this so bad
a prayer
not
to utter most days
to start
or sometime throughout
it’s my
common prayer
as if I kept a common book
from which
I read
depending on the hours
it’s presuming
I suppose
if
asking
belief that God will forgive
and
God will help
and maybe the two-step isn’t needed
since
God might help me
anyway
not waiting for even personally determined
forms of doctrine
for
the hours
c l couch
photo by kevin turcios on Unsplash
“Ain’t no love in the heart of the city.”
San Francisco (USA)
a few poems you know for Monday
scribbling
I guess
a scribble has a word
or
some words to distinguish from
a doodle
though doodle
I imagine could have
words
as well
say
the names of crushes by a child
an adolescent
since
we don’t have crushes
when we’re older
do
we
and we do
which might cause the child
the adolescent
to
cringe
that folk with wrinkles could let love
inside the creases
the war asleep
I slept poorly
which
is the syle anymore
and
I dn’t know what’s happened
in the mean time
as in
the wars
the ones we know
the ones we guess at
with
the ones we miss entirely
for all the destruction
caused
nonetheless
the war between people
maybe
men and women
as
Thurber has penned
or
inside oneself to start the war
or stop
then
these might be
all
the Monday wars
so that
I’ll
learn the real news
later on
a friendly wish is most of all
during or after
and so
it’s Monday
with all the lack of expectation
come
with Monday
and
I hope more than this
much more
that this has been and is
a really
good
day for you
since
you need it
after all
for all you’re going through
that
takes its toll of energy and might go so far
to dull the brightness of
the spirit
or things are not that bad
but
you tire anyway
and need
recharging
which
is pretty normal
or you’re well already
and
a wish is
simply added to the larger quantity
of excellence
so
don’t let me talk you into anything
but have the doo
day
soon or now
or keep it going
c l couch
photo by Dmytro Koplyk on Unsplash
A pileated woodpecker pauses mid-motion, head tilted as if listening for movement beneath the bark.
who tells the story, then?—perhaps a single nature or the other
after drafting
sigh
have I said something for you
yet
not that it’s a desperation
yet
well
but relevance
a reaching out
to find acceptance
more
so alliance
well
to be in touch
at least
and maybe most
if
by the aptitudes we have
and hope
your
reaction might be good
good for you
that is
maybe your conviction
certainly your more plainly passing through
the day
go
well
if not
if I may say
go better
as you often make a day
better
for me
and thank you
and what
do you know
we’re here
c l couch
photo by Brandi Redd on Unsplash
a journey through haiku
[with annotations that are not unwinsome-less]
temperature speaks
you’ve had your cool days a while
time for something else
[told hot days are coming, are here]
something else there was
object before subject parsed
important thing gone
[thought of it last night]
and there was a launch
another to the station
they breathe and eat now
[ISS supply mission flight]
think we’ll find green cheese
and evidence of settlers
who no doubt were Swiss
[sorry to the French as well as the Stilton-bearers; take it up with Diana stories, I suppose; but it is the Swiss who make the cheese, not green, nonetheless with craters]
a glass of white wine
sometime after 5 or so
my flat heart would skip
[if you like red then write red or say it when you read it; part of you will do that, anyway]
I love you and more
scenes after each other then
hope for a real act
[discussion in a scene in a movie]
c l couch
photo by Huỳnh Chương on Unsplash
2 poems about angels
angels at the apocalypse
they all be working
I imagine
though I guess there could be some
held in reserve
I don’t know if our angels will have time for us
but then
I don’t know how many there are
even
if a third fell
how do we count these
and I doubt on
the head of a pin
Jesus said
legions
but he was audience-aware
maybe we’ll have our guardians on
assignment
still
with enough to fill the final battlefield
archangels
leading
taking care of their eldritch own
and all good beings might
weep
in
conquest
and by victory
ourfield
the wings are never long enough
not wide enough
not
wild enough
you’ll note
that birds
except the hummingbird phenomenon
tend toward having
twice
with length of wings as of
their bodies and how
much
more majestic
fearful
wings proportional unfolding from the centers
of the angels
we rarely indicate their power
or
the awe they should invoke
if
a fraction of the might of
their maker
c l couch
photo by Marek Studzinski on Unsplash
“Angels in the Outfield,” a story by Richard Conlin, which began a film franchise
small wonders
green
so much green
and
thank goodness
I’m reacting
and thank goodness I'm reacting
so then
last night there was rain
and there was
thunder
yet
I saw no flashes
meaning
I guess
the lightning fell and struck
far away from town
but I could hear and between
the rain
with the sky cracking
there was wonder
then
this morning
well
here before the screen
cross-legged
stretched knees
I thought
about
places where the storms are afternoon
quotidian
thus do they
there
have to have another source of daily wonder
theirs and even God’s
storms
having become so ordinary
even with
lack of splitting light
yet
more so filling other senses
and
my thought now being about
how much need
of wonder
though
you know that I believe
deep
like the ground of Earth
beneath the storm
c l couch
photo by Abhishek Tewari on Unsplash
wet day unterrible outside
the dropping points of willow green
drip into gray
rendering the name of tree
worthwhile
a good name if metaphor
if anthropomorphizing
making
people out of trees
not by Ovid’s recollection
working
rather by our skill at changing
the tree into person
not the sap
but
tears that weep
the willow is Old Man
the trees throw apples
‘cause
they’re cross with the travelers to
Oz
and so in our wonderlands
we make more
of what we sense
from
ordinary
so that there’s more insightful
and triumphant
to wonder in
the land
if
crying
angry natures
to encounter
c l couch
(us from fatherland, more often motherland)
photo by S L on Unsplash
in the news today
I know there’s what’s happening
in the world
to make
it real
enough honestly to take part
gather in
share stories
help
and ask for help
for all those who are not us and yet
we share the world
like fog when manifest
presume it’s
always
manifest
moves through and by its need
relates us all by exigence
an element and need
of circumstance
whatever we enact within
one
form of consequence
the other
love or hate
war or peace
to share
and by that
all of us
by what is bad
or we might surprise good
either way
act
or result by what happens
what we happen
bind
and by are bound by
fate sometimes it’s
said
better by the love of world even
at war
at home or in trenches
actually to share
it all
c l couch
could be the final poem of the evening (in a reading)
photo by Bank Phrom on Unsplash
“Print Is Alive” (given caption)
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